


incoming signals of frequency and intensity.

by entanglement



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Gen, No explicit descriptions, cleanin out the fic writing cobwebs, i hope it doesnt suck, taggin 4 non-con just 2 b safe, this is v violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglement/pseuds/entanglement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pre-jessica, post-jessica</p>
            </blockquote>





	incoming signals of frequency and intensity.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [become stronger when exposed to](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234565) by [entanglement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglement/pseuds/entanglement). 



Two weeks before he meets Jessica, Kilgrave watches a woman slit her own throat.

The first gush of arterial spray arcs from her neck like red foxglove blooming up along its stalk, but all Kilgrave can muster in response is a deep, jaw dropping yawn. It'd be beautiful if this were the first time he'd suggested a lovely woman kill herself, but one slit throat is a thousand when everyone has the same reaction. There's no beauty in repetition. Every wide-eyed look of terror is the same and everyone's knuckles go white at the hilt of the knife as if their will can topple his, but they always carry out his command. God, it'd be lovely to feel at least a little delighted by this again.

"A little gratitude wouldn't kill you, but being dull could. Should, really," he says.

She croaks out something, but her mouth is full of blood, so it streams down her chest and seeps into the intricate lace lingerie she's wearing. The lingerie he'd been kind enough to procure for her to help her feel as beautiful as she is. He'd kept her the longest, actually. It'd been weeks since she was plucked from behind the counter at a coffee shop and given everything a girl could want. There was something consistently lacking in her presence, though, and it nagged at him to have yet another reminder that there hadn't really ever been anyone in his life that was actually near him by choice. 

"Don't look so frightened. It's only death. Happens to everybody," he spits at her as if he won't be horrified once it happens to him.

Her expression softens anyway as the last few sickly thumps of her heart push out what life she's got left.

  


(

Imagine you've fallen in love for the first time. Imagine it's unrequited.

The feeling, he supposes, is a lot like having a sinkhole open up underneath him, swallowing him deep into the wet gut of the earth to suffocate. It's a helplessness his powers can't even save him from, because he can't force her to love him. He can tell her to stay and he can tell her to say she loves him and to fuck him, but he can't pretend he doesn't see the hatred in her eyes anytime his hold on her mind slips. All he can do is to carefully craft everything he says to her to avoid giving her the chance to tell him the truth. Falling in love doesn't make him better; it makes him cautious.

Soon after she gives him what he feels is a chance to live, she leaves him to die and he can't pretend she felt any guilt in doing it. 

)

  


"Because I love her."

The words convert inside of Kilgrave into the equivalent of catching a fingernail on something and accidentally ripping it off. For the first time in a very long time he finds he cares about making someone suffer to the point where he can visualize how satisfying it'd be to sink a knife into them and twist the blade. He can see why Jessica prefers a more direct confrontation in these sorts of situations and it makes him love her even more.

"Come in," Kilgrave says.

Ruben comes in.

"Close the door."

Ruben closes the door.

"Stay put."

Ruben stays put.

The utensil drawer in Jessica's kitchen is exactly what he'd expected and it truly sums up the life Jessica's chosen for herself: One fork, one spoon and a steak knife with part of the wooden handle snapped off from the end. He considers the fork first for the task he's planned, but returns to Ruben with the knife.

"Jealousy is kind of a new experience for me," Kilgrave says.

Ruben watches the knife, eyes wide. Maybe he's thinking of running, but he doesn't. He looks up to Kilgrave and says, "you love her too?"

"I do."

"I don't get it. You broke into her apartment."

"I did."

"You want her to love you back, but how could she trust you?"

The question is so direct that Kilgrave balks at it for just a moment before issuing his next command: "Go to the bedroom. Slit your throat."

Ruben reaches out for the knife and leaves the plate of banana bread in Kilgrave's hands, which ends up abandoned on the kitchen table once Kilgrave ventures a sniff from beneath the plastic wrap and immediately loses interest. He returns to find Ruben having a very rough go at cutting his throat with the dull, serrated edge of the knife he'd been given. The look in his eyes is sheer panic and Kilgrave watches intently, nearly cheering when the first real gush of blood breaks free from Ruben's carotid.

"Still love her now?" he asks, his tone light, but condescending.

He doesn't stick around for any attempt at an answer.


End file.
